The Short Goodbye

When I close my eyes I can see it perfectly. The sun shooting diamond-bright sparkles off the water. The lake softly swaying like a teenage girl at prom. My friend Michelle's boat held captive in that wake moving of its own accord as we babbled away the afternoon as only a group of people in their early 20s can...mindlessly...confidently. It was in the midst of this misty memory that I first met Joe Faber. He screamed into the middle of my daydream at full throttle. Twisting his body at just the right moment and sending a spray of lake water toward our bikini clad gaggle of girls on the boat.

Joe pulled up that day on his tricked-out jet ski of the era...not the contemporary version that invites middle aged moms like me to hop on and ride...the original...requiring balance and gusto to stay standing while rocketing over waves. I knew right away that we'd become fast friends. Not because he drove like a bat out of hell, but because once he'd tethered his jet ski to the back of the boat he hopped aboard carrying a six pack of beer that he'd procured across the lake at the only liquor store open on Sunday in our region. That was Joe...leave nothing to chance, make a plan and carry it out, and do it while moving forward as fast as possible with a grin on his face.

Eventually even Joe moved to the seated version of personal watercraft, but still insisted on catching air!

This week Joe's ride came to an end. Far too soon. Far too abruptly. My friend died after committing himself fully to the task of winning the most important race of his life -- the battle with cancer.

Today I'm left with a pile of photos and a mind filled with memories...from goofy to tear-filled to tender. We were friends. We were polar opposites. We shared a majority of our lives with common friends, interwoven stories, and a deep respect for the uniqueness that made us each who we are.

It was over one of those summers in the early 90's, filled with glory days and endless nights, that Joe finally cranked up the nerve to put his long-suffering heart on the line and win the girl. He and my dear friend and roommate, Lynn, made a perfect pair. Neither ever thought they were going fast enough, whether on one of those god forsaken jet skis, a boat, a plane, a motorcycle, or just in life. While that same jet ski that Joe seemed to master effortlessly was dragging me around the shallows of Lake Michigan showing the world the reality that I couldn't maneuver the throttle AND hop up and balance, Lynn was learning to make a hard turn and shoot a rooster tail of water all over me. I was destined to sit on the shore and watch as my two friends zoomed off into the sunset edging each other on and complimenting one another perfectly. It was a thing of beauty.

Joe never lost that glimmer in his eye when he looked at Lynn. It was as if he was always surprised that this incredible woman really belonged to him. That wonder and passion served him well over the years as their marriage hit the bumps and ruts along the road of life at mach speed. Together they made a family with Kyle and Megan...and several dogs along the way who were always treated as true members of their brood.

When Kyle was born, he fit into their lives with the same need for speed. To this day I don't think he knows what it's like to coast. In a few years he'll be the same age his daddy was when I met him...I don't doubt that he'll have a similar swagger. He will find his way and become his own man because he had a great model for his first 15 years...I don't expect him to be a replica of Joe but I imagine I'll always see a bit of his dad in that killer smile as he rockets off into whatever his future holds.

I don't think anything could have prepared Joe for the knee knocking joy coupled with gut twisting fear of raising a daughter. He and Megan were inseparable, especially during her first few years of life. Joe was home with her while Lynn worked a full time job. Picture Joe with his legendary Jeep Wrangler and his precious daughter, him teaching her how to find her way around the engine with a socket wrench and a smile.  Today she effortlessly transitions between motor sports and her dad's garage and the glamour-filled  world of your average 6th grade girl. A rare gem in a world filled with faux personalities, Megan is destined to break all the rules society has yoked on women and do it with audacity and style. She is such a magical blend of her daddy and mom.

Joe loved the speed and peace of flying his own plane...especially with his beloved co-pilot Lynn.

It was during this time at home with Megan that Joe conceived of his dream job and started the process of making that dream a reality. How many of us have found a way to transfer our passion into a job that we love? Joe founded Midwest Motorsports because he knew that there were other people out there who wanted to push the throttle farther...and he wanted to help them make their dreams come true.

The snapshot of a life well-lived is never really enough for those left behind. The glimmer of passion that you capture in a moments time can't do justice to the complexity of a life that was not perfect, but perfectly lived for that one man.

Joe was a quiet man who forged his ideas carefully and then defended them with a stubbornness that could surprise me every time. He was raised with a bible in his hands and could quote the scripture without a second thought, making his journey toward Catholicism one of the most well thought out I've ever witnessed. He challenged every aspect and turned it inside out before acknowledging or accepting.

After his first jump out of a perfectly good airplane...following Lynn's lead!

Today begins a new journey for Joe's family. One through uncharted waters. I firmly believe they will remain buoyed by his smile and their memories. I too will cling to the frayed edges of these memories that serve to tell the story of a man who was the mechanic of his own journey. He lived his life true to his word. Our goodbye was cut short, but our friendship will span the divide. Thank you, Joe, for sharing your ride with me.

RIP, friend.